


Kaleidoscope

by Doctorwhogirl13



Series: When the Morning Comes [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abusive Father, Angst, Johns childhood, young john - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 16:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9191879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctorwhogirl13/pseuds/Doctorwhogirl13
Summary: AN: Here is the second story of this series I am doing. My original idea was quite different than what it ended up being. Needless to say, 6 Thatchers changed the plan slightly.“My life was black and white and I believed it. My eyes looked at the world but couldn’t see it. You’re like the thing that makes the universe explode. Into the colors of the world I’ve never known.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Here is the second story of this series I am doing. My original idea was quite different than what it ended up being. Needless to say, 6 Thatchers changed the plan slightly. 
> 
> “My life was black and white and I believed it. My eyes looked at the world but couldn’t see it. You’re like the thing that makes the universe explode. Into the colors of the world I’ve never known.”

It was a dreary morning. The weather matching the mood over the group of people huddled around the recently filled grave. In the center of the huddled group, stood a man in the garb of a Major and his 9 year old son who were looking into the grave. 

“Courage son. Don't show them your tears. Your mother wouldn't want you to cry over her.”

The small, blonde boy wiped his arm over his eyes, clearing the tears there. One of his aunts whom he didn't remember ever meeting before came over to them. 

“Buck up now John. Watson’s don’t cry. We have courage. Have courage now for your mother.” She said with a pat on his head. 

“Yes Ma’am.” John croaked out with his hoarse voice from the crying he had done during the service. He couldn't believe she was gone. It was sudden, heart attack. One day she was there giving him a new book to read for his birthday, the next she was gone.

“Come on, son. Time to go home.” the Major said as he ushered John towards the waiting car. 

Back at home, John prepared tea and biscuits for the guests that were staying at their home for the funeral. He secretly hoped they would be leaving very quickly. He hated being the one to play mother. Especially since everything he did, reminded him of how she did it so much better. “Tea Aunt Judy?” He asked, holding out the trey to the plump woman sitting in his mother’s chair. 

“Well, aren’t you sweet. Taking right up after your mother, making us all feel at home. Isn’t he sweet, Hamish?” she said, taking one of the offered tea cups along with a biscuit. 

“John, that’s enough. Why don’t you let Harriet take care of the refreshments? That’s her duty after all.” the Major said pointedly towards both of his children. 

“Right. Sorry Father...” John said softly, turning to place the tray on one of the small side tables. As he did so, one of his feet got caught up on the floor rug and he lost his balance. It all happened quickly. One moment he was upright, the next he was on the floor, the tray and all of its contents were spilled around and on top of him. Hot tea saturated through his good clothes, and began scalding his skin. 

“You clumsy oaf! I told you...!” the Major yelled, standing up from his chair so forcefully that it fell over behind him. 

John’s eyes grew wide as he lay there on the floor, unconsciously curling into a ball. 

“It’s fine, Father. I’ll take care of the mess.” Harriet said, rushing over with a rag. “You keep conversation with everyone.”

In a few quick movements, the majority was cleaned up, and she was helping John off the floor, maneuvering him towards the washroom. 

“I'm sorry, Harry.” John mumbled, trying hard to not cry again. “I didn't mean to make a mess of things.” 

“It’s alright. You didn't mean to.” She said, pulling his soaked shirt away from his skin and pulling it over his head. “We need to get this burn cleaned up before it gets worse. Does it still feel like it's burning?”

John shook his head. “Just sore. There's ointment in the cupboard that will help.” 

Harry opened it up and found the tube. “You're good at this stuff. The taking care of things. Dad wants me to be, but I just can't. You do it naturally.” She commented, starting to gently rub on the cream.

“I learned it from Mum. I suppose we will both need to help pick up the slack now.” 

“Right. Just don't let Dad think you're a puff by doing housework. I think you're good now. You head back to your room for a bit, I'll cover for you out there. I can tell you need a break.”

“Thanks, Harry.” He said into her soft sweater as he hugged her. “I love you.”

 

Back in his room as he sat on his bed, John looked at the phone that had somehow appeared in his hand. He scrolled through the recent calls, seeing that most were from his Mum. Tears pooling in his eyes, he switched to the voicemails and hit the most recent recording.

“Hey there Johnny. I've gotten a bit healed up at work. Do you mind popping the casserole in when you get home. You know what to do with it. I couldn't do it without you! Cheers!”

Tears fell down his cheeks as he let the phone slip to the bed. That was the last time he had ever heard her voice. She had died before even making it home. 

The next thing he knew, he was waking up into a darkened room half laying on his bed. A small blanket had been draped over him, he guessed by Harry’s doing. Every part of him felt worn and overused. He never knew why exactly, but he reached for his phone, found his mother’s name and selected the call button. 

It rang and rang, eventually being picked up by the voicemail. “Hey there! Sorry I missed your call. I’m probably working or running around. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you in a tick!” 

“Hey, um, Mom. It’s me. John. I don’t know why I am doing this, but it is the only thing that makes sense right now. I ought to talk to someone about what’s going on, but the only one I want to talk to is you.” He started crying again. “I just want to talk to you. Tell you how much I miss you. Just...please come back.”


End file.
